character in a play.
No, you couldn't expect Henry to be practical and she didn't. And of course they'd had their tiffs and disagreements, particularly about the quads. Why couldn't he see they were special? Well, he did, but not in the right way, and calling them 'clones' wasn't helpful. Eva could think of other things he'd said that weren't nice either. And then there was that dreadful business the other night with the cake icer. Goodness only knew what effect that had had on the girls' ideas about men. And that really was the trouble with Henry, he didn't know what romantic meant. Eva got up from the kitchen table and was presently calming her nerves by cleaning out the pantry. She was interrupted at six-thirty by Emmeline in her pyjamas.
'What are you doing?' she asked so unnecessarily that Eva rose to the bait.
'It's perfectly obvious,' she snapped. 'There's no need to ask stupid questions.'
'It wasn't obvious to Einstein,' said Emmeline, using the well-tried technique of luring Eva into a topic about which she knew nothing but which she had to approve.
'What wasn't?'
'That the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.'
'Well it is, isn't it?' said Eva, moving a tin of Epicure marmalade from the shelf with pilchards and tuna fish on it to the jam section where it looked out of place.
'Of course it isn't. Everyone knows that. It's a curve. Where's Daddy?'
'I don't see how...What do you mean 'Where's Daddy?'' said Eva, completely thrown by this leap from the inconceivable to the immediate.
'I was asking where he is,' said Emmeline. 'He's not in, is he?'
'No, he isn't,' said Eva, torn now between an inclination to give vent to her irritation and the need to keep calm. 'He's out.'
'Where's he gone?' asked Emmeline.
'He hasn't gone anywhere,' said Eva and moved the marmalade back to the pilchard shelf. Tins didn't look right among the jam-jars. 'He spent the night at the Braintrees.'
'I suppose he got drunk again,' said Emmeline. 'Do you think he's an alcoholic?'
Eva clutched a coffee jar dangerously. 'Don't you dare talk about your father like that!' she snapped. 'Of course he has a drink when he comes home at night. Nearly everyone does. It's quite normal and I won't have you saying things about your father.'
'You say things about him,' said Emmeline, 'I heard you call him'
'Never mind what I say,' said Eva. 'That's quite different.'
'It isn't different,' Emmeline persisted, 'not when you say he's an alcoholic and anyway I was only asking a question and you're always telling us to'
'Go up to your room at once,' said Eva. 'You're not speaking to me in that fashion. I won't have it.'
Emmeline retreated and Eva slumped down at the kitchen table again. It was really too trying of Henry not to have instilled some sense of respect in the quads. It was always left to her to be the disciplinarian. He should have more authority. She went back into the larder and saw to it that the packets and jars and tins did exactly what she wanted. By the time she had finished she felt a little better. Finally she chased the quads into dressing quickly.
'We'll have to catch the bus this morning,' she announced when they came in to breakfast. 'Daddy has the car and'
'He hasn't,' said Penelope, 'Mrs Willoughby has.'
Eva, who had been pouring tea, spilt it. 'What did you say?'
Penelope looked smug. 'Mrs Willoughby has the car.'
'Mrs Willoughby? Yes, I know I've spilt some tea, Samantha. What do you mean, Penny? She can't have.'
'She has,' said Penelope looking smugger still. 'The milkman told me.'
